


Shattered

by Anonymous0003



Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Angst, Danny Fenton Has Issues, Danny Fenton Is So Done, Danny Fenton Needs A Hug, Danny Fenton Needs Help, Depression, Gen, Hatred, Heavy Angst, Hurt Danny Fenton, Hurt No Comfort, Major Character Injury, Mental Anguish, Mental Health Issues, POV Danny Fenton, Sad, Sad Danny Fenton, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Suicide, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-06-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:47:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24688630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anonymous0003/pseuds/Anonymous0003
Summary: He's not Atlas. He can't carry the world on his shoulders. And yet, the universe thinks he can. Danny can't take it anymore.(Read the tags)
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 116





	Shattered

**Author's Note:**

> Read the tags
> 
> TW: Suicide, depression, unhealthy mind sets

The thing is, it was so... _obvious._ It would take so little effort, frankly, it was laughable. It was probably one of the biggest superhero cliches ever: the nerd, the loser, the one that no one would expect secretly being the idol, the white knight, the one that rescues the damsel. Despite the ridicule and hate.

Watching things like Superman, no one would think that it would be _so hard_ to do the things they do. It would be so _easy,_ if only you had the abilities.

But really, it wasn't the fighting or the violence or the "villain" that defeated the hero. It was the people they defended. It was the people that screamed and yelled and flung baseless and unwarranted insults only seconds after saving them from a rapist or a burning building. It was the people that spat on the hero, that tried to take them down, that tried to control them. The ungrateful and bigoted human beings who were so afraid of the unknown and the alien that they would do anything in their power to utterly _destroy_ someone that had done nothing but _protect._ It was the _people_ that made the hero want to quit. Why should they risk their lives, risk death and destruction, for a bunch of greedy and cowardly creatures? Kill or be killed, right? It was survival of the fittest, so whynot let _them_ figure it out for themselves? After all, they made it crystal clear that help was unwanted.

But unfortunately, that's what makes a hero. Helping those who need it, not those who want it. Danny knew that, he had to learn really quickly that people would do anything they could to crumble his self worth and twist his intentions and vilify him. He would never be able to please everyone, and he's had to learn that the hard way. He's had to decide whether or not he was willing to throw his life away at the drop of a hat to save another. And he decided that yes, he is willing. He's decided that fine, he didn't need recognition or praise, all he needed was for people to leave him alone. Lay off. He wanted them to acknowledge that he had _feelings_ , he was only _one person_ , and he was _trying_. But, that was impossible. 

It was not his fault that he was too injured and he missed a person because he couldn't see straight. So what was this fallacious idea that he was perfect? Why was he hated when it was proven that he had flaws? It felt hypocritical, these defective and narcissistic people sneer and look down upon anything that wasn't faultless.

Danny hadn't necessarily kept count, but at this point he felt that the nicknames were endless. Ghost child. Ghost kid. Dipstick. Freak. Outcast. Loser. Abomination. Half-breed. Mutant. _Halfa._ There were probably countless more, but he didn't care enough to name any more.

And he had to face it alone. Nobody knew about why he was throwing away his future. No one knew why he was throwing away his education, his social life, his sleep, his hobbies. Nobody even noticed.

Danny, for the past year, had dark circles and bags under his eyes. Nobody noticed the poorly covered up bruises on his arms, legs, neck, and face, and nobody noticed the blood that stained through the white long sleeved shirts from the awfully stitched up cuts, and nobody noticed the barely hidden limps and careful movements.

But he was okay with it. Being _that_ invisible helpedhim.

It was human nature that when there was a desire to hide something from the world, the first action is to put up a front, a facade, a mask. At first, people vaguely wonder, what the change in personality meant, what happened to cause it. But eventually, everyone stopped caring, they stopped paying attention.

And Danny Fenton did exactly that. The Danny when he was with his family, when he was with his friends, when he was with his teachers, when he was with his peers. They were all different. They varied because Danny had perfected the ability to pretend. And then the people did exactly what they always did, they stopped paying attention.

All he had to stabilize him was his emotional control. It was easy to control the freakish powers that echoed inside him when he'd rather die than hurt an innocent. When your _morals_ are stronger than your _temper_. But people aren't perfect, they were faulty and full of mistakes and they could only have so much control, and despite what everyone screamed at him, he was still a person.

Sadly, he's found that it was easy to look over certain facts when faced with a supernatural being. They don't acknowledge the fact he was only fifteen years old. Because he was not human. They don't think of the fact that he was untrained and unfit to handle the things he did. Because he had powers, suddenly nothing mattered but his genetics. In the eyes of the public, he was either the indestructible hero or the disastrous menace, the verdict could change with a snap of the fingers and there was no in between.

But he was not indestructible, he just hid the damage. He was not a menace, he just had more enemies than friends. He still bled, and because it was not red, because it was not _human,_ it didn't matter, right? His bones still break, but they healed ten times faster, so no harm no foul?

The thing is, no matter how optimistic a person is, no matter how well they can fake a smile or force a laugh, no matter how resilient, they aren't perfect. It's hard to fight the creeping sadness, the sadness that eventually hallows and numbs. 

Depression is a silent killer. It's a disease, a virus, that infects the mind and breeds once it's dug in its roots. Try to weed it out, and it comes back twice as powerful. It crept up on him, he never even suspected it until he found himself thinking of a world without him in it. Until he started sitting on the tops of tall buildings and wondering what it would feel like to fall. Or when he would stare at the steak knives on the counter in the kitchen or the bleach under the sink in the bathroom. When he finally figured it out, he tried to fix it. He didn't tell anyone, because he wasn't _supposed_ to be depressed. Why should he be depressed? He had superpowers, something that anyone would kill for. The dream of every child across the world. He had no right to be sad. Plus, it wasn't like any one cared about his problems. 

So he tried to ignore it, then he forced himself to do the things he loved and he tried to laugh more and smile more even when he had no energy to actually be happy. He tried to convince himself that it was working, that he was fine and no one needed to know. Because nothing was wrong. 

He noticed that despite his reassurances _(denial)_ he slept less, which was a feat considering the already little amount of sleep he gets, because his body constantly itched with the need to move even though his mind wanted to shut down. He actively started to avoid social interactions and his apathy towards people's insults grew. His parent's dinner-time chats about his obliteration and painful experimentation no longer made him uncomfortable, and he was even horrified to find himself morbidly curious. He found himself silently crying for no reason when he was alone and snapping at people for no reason. His focus began to waver and his reflexes slowed. He tried to ignore it, and tried to convince himself that his feelings were unwarranted and he was just being childish.

But after everything, despite how hard he tried, here he stood. The wind whipped through his black hair, the only sound was the faint buzzing of the town's night life somewhere farther away. He was alone, on top of one of the tallest warehouses he could find, it was about seventy feet from the blacktop. His wounds from the most recent fight still oozed blood and his head swam. He clutched the note in his hand, his head tilted down towards the ground and his eyes glazed over. The paper in his fist only had one sentence on it. He didn't have much to say, and if this was a surprise to any one then, well, maybe they should have paid closer attention.

_"Heroes don't last forever, eventually, they break."_


End file.
